


Purely a Hypothetical

by small_blue_owl



Category: David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
Genre: Established Relationship, Fear of Discovery, Forbidden Love, Jealousy, M/M, POV First Person, Period-Typical Homophobia, Rosa Dartle being Rosa Dartle, Secret Relationship, cryptic conversations, i have no idea how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:49:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28890903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/small_blue_owl/pseuds/small_blue_owl
Summary: In which Rosa Dartle asks some questions that indirectly prove her suspicion.
Relationships: David Copperfield/James Steerforth
Kudos: 4





	Purely a Hypothetical

**Author's Note:**

> Well hi. This idea would not leave me alone and it is so fun to write things involving Rosa Dartle. So here we are. Hope you enjoy.

**…~*~…**

It was April. I had gone to visit Steerforth at his house and stayed much longer than I had expected. But of course, I did not mind at all. I would have gladly stayed there for the rest of time, had he permitted me to. Mrs. Steerforth seemed, at least for the time being, totally ignorant of her son’s “unusual friendship” for me, as she put it, but nothing escaped the piercing gaze of Ms. Dartle. She seemed to make it her particular undertaking to always be the obstruction between Steerforth and myself; a glass door through which I could see that gentleman but never speak with him alone. Believe me, I tried every possible way to obtain those much anticipated and longed-for moments alone in his company, but Ms. Dartle made it exceedingly arduous.

My evenings were often spent stealing glances at Steerforth and avoiding the gaze of Ms. Dartle, who seemed to have an eye that no subtlety could sneak past. It was one such evening, as we sat at tea, that Ms. Dartle’s questions seemed not as random as they usually were.

“Would you ever quarrel with James?” Rosa Dartle looked sharply at Mrs. Steerforth, her fork poised over her plate. “I am so very ignorant of these things; you really must tell me.”

Mrs. Steerforth laughed shortly. “Why goodness no! James would never give me cause. What a peculiar soul you are, Ms. Dartle.”

Aforementioned peculiar soul raised her eyebrows in feigned surprise. “No? He would never give you cause. Interesting. Very much so indeed.” Here she made a point to darkly glance in my direction as she took a sip of tea. Something in her gaze gave me pause. I had never quite known what it was about her that frightened me, but something did.

Steerforth laughed. “Why does that interest you so much, Rosa? It’s common knowledge. I would never give my mother cause to be dissatisfied with me.”

Again, Rosa looked shocked and furtively glanced in my direction. I blushed and looked away.

“What if,” she continued pointedly, “and this is entirely in the hypothetical, mind you, what if you fell in love, and do take care to note I know nothing about the subject, and your choice, by some twist of fate displeased your mother?”

I shot a glance at Steerforth who laughed shortly and was visibly suppressing shock. Mrs. Steerforth smiled dismissively. “I trust my son’s choice will be perfect. If he is happy, so am I. Why do you ask such strange questions, Rosa? Is there someone you are thinking of?”

Rosa paused, mouth partway open, teacup frozen halfway off the saucer and looked around the table. It seemed she had not been expecting to be asked such a direct question. “Oh! Why no, purely in the hypothetical, as I said. I do not _think_ of anyone.” She lifted her cup and took a sip of tea, delicately watching Steerforth and myself alternately. Under the table, I felt Steerforth take my hand.

After tea, we all took to the drawing room. That is, all except Mrs. Steerforth who retired early on account of a headache. Oh, how I wished Ms. Dartle would have retired early, too. But she seemed keen on never leaving us alone. And not only that; once Mrs. Steerforth had retired upstairs, she brought out the subject again.

“But supposing you fell for someone utterly below you, James, who would be unworthy of you, what would your mother say?” She spoke with a sort of disgust and fascination as though she truly was curious. There was a spark in her eye that, at the time, I merely attributed to a trick of the firelight. Had I known what I do now, I would have seen that it was something else entirely.

Steerforth was obviously nettled as he replied. “I do not much care what other’s opinions are of the one I love. And that includes yours, Ms. Dartle.”

“Oh!” replied Ms. Dartle quickly. “I have no opinion; it was only a question. I am so very ignorant, you know.”

She smiled and gazed into the fire. They were speaking in the same language of layered meaning. They were using this conversation to say what neither would otherwise. It was clear that Rosa did indeed have someone she was thinking of, and so did Steerforth, yet neither would say it. I felt quite uncomfortable to be discussed in this manner. Having those cold, scrupulously observant eyes peering at Steerforth and myself kept me always on edge and afraid.

She presently got up as if on cue and walked to the door. At the threshold, she turned. “Well, good evening,” she remarked with a brisk bitterness and walked up the great stairway without a backward look. Once I was sure she was gone, I glanced up at Steerforth. He was gazing into the fire, his face set in an expression as cold as marble.

“She knows, doesn’t she,” I whispered more like a statement than a question.

Steerforth sighed with a sour smile, his gaze still lost in the flames. “She’s not blind,” he said bitterly.

“But why does she care?” I asked, for at the time, I truly did not know.

Steerforth glanced up at me, his perfect eyebrows raised as if expecting me to realize the answer to my question on my own. When I did not, his face went through a series of emotions that I could not quite place. It seemed as though he was about to say something of importance but thought better of it.

“Lord knows,” he said simply, “Doesn’t matter much, does it?” He had an affectionate, playful gleam to his eye that I knew all too well by now. Gently, he leaned forward and drew me into his arms. I truly tried to forget the evenings proceedings as he pressed his lips to mine, yet I could not help the vague and troublesome notion festering in the back of my mind that Ms. Dartle stood at the top of the stairs. Even wrapped in the arms of him who I loved so dearly, I could not help but turn a fearful eye behind me, half expecting to see her, the scar on her lip pronounced in the shadows, her piercing, prying eyes dismantling my safety. Only years later can I say with almost absolute certainty that I know what it was about her that frightened me. She was filled to overflowing with one of the most powerful emotions second perhaps only to shame: jealousy.

**…~*~…**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos make my day :)


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